Beyond Flesh and Blood
by Marine Brother Shran
Summary: Finding love is the ultimate goal in life, but to these Claymores such goal is lost. Awakened Ones are nothing but monsters lost in power. Yet in both, there is humanity within. Can their humanity resist against everything, and reach their goal? Sum Insid
1. First Meeting

**Beyond Flesh and Blood**

**Chapter I First Meeting**

**Summary: Finding love is the ultimate goal in life, but to these warriors such a goal is lost. Awakened Ones are nothing but monsters lost in power. Yet in both, there is humanity within. Can their humanity last out against fate, history, identification, flesh, and blood, and reach out for their lost goal? Can an Awakened One and a warrior, whom both had been striped of their humanity go beyond the barrier, and reach out towards the goal, as man and woman?**

Such is the life of a warrior. From day to night, they rise with the sun, travel, slay demonic beings known to all as Yoma, travel even further before camping for the night and sleep, only to resume the routine with the dawning of the sun. Such is the life of the warrior. It is an endless cycle that only changes from time to time, that only ends upon their deaths. Many cope by burying everything that made them human. They bury their emotions, remain aloof amongst the human populace, maintaining minimal contact with them, and bear a simple outlook on their life. They ignore the pains of the outside world and concentrate on what is important: destroy the Yoma.

However, such a life has its risk. A major one being the threat of possibly awakening and become what they destroy. Another threat, which haunts them day by day, is the emotional pain many go through from their pasts before becoming a warrior.

Such is the life of a warrior, known to the public as Claymores, aptly named for the fearsome blade weapon they wield, known as a claymore.

"A man dressed in black will come soon," she quietly stated. "Give the payment to him."

"I-I understand," a man stuttered, disturbed by the monotonous expression the warrior had. Although graced with a certain beauty, her mannerisms, expression, and the reputation for her kind distorted her image, from that of a young beautiful girl, to a dark foreboding entity of destruction whose sole purpose is to destroy Yoma demons.

"I will take my leave," she quietly stated, sheathing her massive sword. Turning towards the nearest gate, she quickly proceeded towards her next destination. Where exactly was yet to be determined, but with no set destination in mind she headed south east.

As the city slowly disappeared into the distance, the Claymore's mind drifted to thoughts about her life. She didn't have much a recollection of what had happened to her prior to becoming a warrior, but she knew deep in her heart she had lost something precious to the Yoma. Of what she no longer remembered, but regardless it plagued her very being, often coming in full force during whenever she had to travel and wasn't on assignment. Although mentally a maelstrom of pains of the past, her outward appearance showed no signs of trouble of any, save for a pair of dead silver eyes.

Her thoughts again drifted to an Awaken hunt she had led only a few months prior. She had been placed as the leader of the group, and had been assigned warriors who were ranked between 20 and 30. An initial skirmish had enlightened her of how she had underestimated her group's battle potential when she watched them flawlessly and effortlessly dispatched a massive group of Yoma in the congregation area. She had been sceptical, believing that she was the only one possibly fit for the task. Such an experience showed her how wrong she was, and how she would have to truly understand what they were capable of and use such knowledge accordingly if, they were to survive. She learned the lesson well thankfully before encountering the Awakened being. With such knowledge in mind, she altered her plans and organization of the hunting party, which resulted in absolute victory, but paid an unfortunate price: two gave their lives to allow her and the other warrior to deliver the final blow.

Since that hunt, she never forgot that lesson. She carried the memory of their sacrifice, always ensuring her battle group was appropriately set up in accordance to everyone's true power and skill. Despite her single digit rank, and the low rank of those under her, everyone had their powers and abilities, thus making rank nearly a moot point, unless those of low rank have been proven to be nothing but a nuisance.

Stopping by a small stream, she looked up to the sky to notice that it had greatly darkened. Realising it would be pointless to travel any further.

Taking off one of her gloves, she kneeled down in front of the water as she cupped her hand and spooned a small amount of water into her hands before drinking the cool water. Staring down at her reflection, all she saw was a blank, forlorn expression of a girl with flat semi-wavy hair, and a dead pair of eyes. Tucking a bit of her hair behind both ears, she looked away, not wanting to risk any possible emotional responses from looking at her reflection. Often she felt something tug within her whenever she looked at herself. She didn't know why, but something about her reflection brought a pain in her heart. For what reason, she never knew, but she paid little heed, seeing it as nothing more than something irrelevant.

Brushing her current train of thought aside, she drew her sword. A sudden rustle of the bushes suddenly brought her senses to bear as she takes a ready stance and turns to the source of the rustling. She scoffed lightly to herself, knowing she allowed herself to get careless for a moment.

She waited a moment longer to see a man suddenly stumble out from the bushes. Realising it was a human, she lowered her weapon, but kept it tight within her hands should the need to defend herself ever come.

"Sorry about that," the man sheepishly apologized, chuckling from embarrassment. "I just saw the stream here. I didn't mean to scare you or anything."

The warrior continued to study the man for a moment. On his back just over his right shoulder was the hilt of his sword. What was exactly sheathed she couldn't tell, for his body hid it from view. Besides his weapon's hilt, spaulders, and black cloak that reached down nearly to his ankles, all that was left visible was his face. From his appearance, he appeared no older than early twenties, with light brown hair held back in a small pony tail, with his bangs lightly hanging in front of his forehead. From her standpoint, she could barely make out the calm blue eyes of his, along with a thin scar that ran from his left temple, to the right tip of his chin. He had a bit of growth on his face, but that would be the case from travelling for a while.

"You didn't scare me," the warrior calmly replied. "However, why are you here?"

"Oh don't mind me," the man quickly replied, showing signs of embarrassment, rather than the fear that she often encountered. "I'm just here to set up camp. Don't mind me." Clicking his tongue, a house clamoured its way out from the forest and immediately made its way towards the stream, drinking the refreshing liquid.

As he let his horse have its fill, he reached underneath his cloak, followed by two distinctive clicks before he took off his cloak, which had his spaulders attached, and laid it down on the ground flat. Underneath his cloak, he wore a simple shirt, and black pants, and a pair of sabatons which he quickly removed and placed by his cloak. Going about his business, he quickly reached into a bag that his horse carried, as he procured some firewood and other such objects, as he started to prepare a fire.

Seeing how he was going to leave her alone, she quickly returned her weapon to its sheath and turned to leave.

"You can stick around if you want," he called out. The warrior turned around and regarded him for a moment. Seeing how there were no foreseeable dangers, she returned to her intended location, stabbed the weapon into the ground, and began to shed her armour. The man for his part began to light the fire, with a decent collection of firewood beside him to start the fire.

"You do not fear me?" He looked up from his work to see the warrior had removed her armour, wearing only the grey spandex, sitting cross-legged and leaning against her sword.

"Pardon me?" he replied back, somewhat surprised by the question.

"I said-"

"I know what you said," he said, cutting her off. "But I don't see why I should fear you. Granted you are one of them powerful warriors we call Claymores, but I don't see a reason to." The Claymore for her part only looked at him curiously. For so long, she had been scorned for being nothing more than an ugly stain that needed to be cleaned off when the time came. But now here was this man who openly stated he didn't fear her, or had any reason. Although refreshing to find someone who didn't regard her as a monster, she didn't dwell upon it, for in the morning they would go their separate directions, never to meet again.

"So, what's your name?" the man casually asked, as he sat down in front of his fire, satisfied with his work as he pulled out some dried meat for himself, and a bag of oats for his horse.

"There's no point to tell," she deadpanned, closing her eyes as she prepared to sleep. "You'll eventually forget."

"I disagree," he countered, causing her to look up at him. "It would be a bit hard for me to forget a pretty face like yours."

'Who is this guy?' she wondered to herself. First of all the man had appeared out of nowhere, claiming that he wanted to set up camp, to then later state he didn't fear her kind. And now he was asking for her name, saying he wouldn't forget her name. To her, he was an extreme oddity, and to a point, a nuisance.

"I guess I'll go first," the man sighed tiredly. "I'm 'Long sword' Henry. I'm a simple mercenary travelling from town to town offering my combat services, which range from dealing with simple bandits to holding off Yoma demons until a Claymore can arrive and deal with it. And this is my horse, Rose. So what about you? What's your name?"

Seeing no other alternatives, and the fact she had some manners, she sighed in resignation before responding, "I am number 8 'Windcutter' Flora. You are already aware of my role in this world; therefore I won't speak about it. Do you have any other questions?"

"Not exactly," Henry shrugged, gnawing on the piece of meat. "Well, where you off to, exactly?"

"Presently south east," she replied, starting to feel some agitation towards his questionings.

"I see," he simply replied, as he continued to eat his dinner. Picking up a small piece of meat, he held it up in her direction, silently offering the piece to her.

Flora regarded the offering for a moment before she reached over and accepted the piece. She looked at him somewhat suspiciously, as the size of the piece was about the correct amount she would normally eat if she went without food for over a week. And considering she hadn't had a thing to eat for well over a week, her suspicions shot-up as she wondered if he had been secret following her the entire time.

Immediately dropping the piece of meet, she jumped to her feet as she drew her sword and pointed it towards Henry's neck only to see him roll away towards his cloak were he drew his sword. She noted that he was carrying a massive sword was about 140cm long from tip to pommel.

"Who are you?" she snapped, sheathing her blade, ready to strike if her suspicions were correct.

"I just told you!" he replied back, exasperated and surprised at her outburst. "What's wrong with you?! I offer you some dinner, and you try to behead me?!"

"How could you know I only require that much?" Flora sharply asked, taking up a stance showing Henry she was serious.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about," he began, putting his hands up in the open after laying his sword down, "but all I did was offer the last chunk of meat I had." Henry began to sweat, seeing the seriousness in her eyes, and realizing how much danger he was in.

"I swear I didn't know that you only needed that much!" he cried out, holding his ground, praying Flora would believe him. "It was just by chance alright?!"

"Where is it?" she snapped back, not at all pleased with Henry's actions.

"Where's what?!"

"The Yoma," she shot out. "The Yoma you're working for. No normal man would approach me unless they were a Yoma."

"What in the world are you talking about?!" he gasped. "Why in the world would I want to – Look out!" Bolting forward, he took himself and Flora to the ground as a massive bolt shot out and struck the air their bodies were just occupying.

Looking up in confusion, she noticed how dangerously close their faces were. She could feel his breath along her face. More than that, she could see his boyish nature underneath his rugged features, the depth of his scars, and his eyes. As she peered into his blue orbs, she saw a massive cavern of loneliness. Somehow she felt a certain familiarity within his eyes, like a part of her soul wanted to reach out and fill that void. She didn't understand what she was feeling, only that it was there.

Her thoughts were jarred when she suddenly realized she was thrown to her left. Rolling a bit, she quickly got up on her knees to see a massive Yoma ready to strike Henry. Henry for his part quickly retrieved his weapon as he swung out, immediately cutting off the fingers of the demon's left hand, greatly surprising both the Yoma and Flora.

"You like that?" Henry called out as he prepared to strike again. The Yoma responded with a roar as it backhanded Henry aside, causing him to drop his sword and slide against the dirt.

With its attention solely on Henry, it failed to pay attention to Flora until it was too late. Before it realized its mistake, she had long attacked, as it soon fell into a bloody heap of fleshy parts.

Sheathing her sword, Flora sighed tiredly, annoyed about the events of the evening. This had not been her plan, as she had simply wanted to sleep and resume her journey, until she was called upon again for another assignment. Moving around the bloody carcass, she quickly put her armour back on and started to head out upstream, not wanting to sleep near the body, and be where the scent could possibly reach her.

Satisfied she had placed enough distance between herself and the remains, she silently stabbed her sword into the ground, removed her armour once more, and sat cross-legged and leaned against the blade, closing her eyes allowing her to slip into a dreamless state, ready for anything.

However, her sleep was disturbed as she heard the sounds of gear, and horse trotting closing in. Feinting sleep, she subtly tried to sense out the presence, only to realize that it wasn't the familiar yoki of the Yoma's. Not able to sense the presence, she opened her eyes to suddenly see Henry again with his horse, and a torch in hand.

"Oh," Henry gasped, surprised he had run into her again. "I didn't know you had gone this far. I just wanted to put more distance between myself and that thing back there. You don't mind if I stay here do you?" Flora, however, eyed him dangerously. After the previous encounter, she was extremely suspicious of Henry.

"What do you want?" she sharply asked, ready to knock him out if need be.

"Calm down for crying out loud," Henry shot back, trying to ease the situation. "I'm just a mercenary, and no I don't answer to those demons! I did just say I fight them, so why would I want to help them, even if they paid me good money?!

"C'mon, give got to believe me; I have no interesting in getting you hurt by anyone."

Flora regarded Henry long and hard. Although the fact he happened upon her was an accident, everything else from then on only proved to be suspicious. His choice to camp near her, asking about her, offering the correct amount of food, the fact a Yoma appeared, it only added up to him being one himself. However she smelled nothing out of the ordinary from him, save for the blood of the Yoma that was coming from his sword. Her gaze eventually met his. Looking deeply at him, she slowly reassessed the possible danger he could cause. Seeing nothing in his eyes, she slowly nodded in acceptance.

Henry sighed in relief as he reached under his cloak. Following the two familiar clicks, he again discarded his cloak, dug a small hole on the ground, and placed the torch in the ground, as he firmly anchored it to the ground. Going about his business once more, Flora watched as Henry quickly assembled a new fire pit, and had it lit in relative time, before he sat down and resumed his interrupted meal, which including him holding up another piece of meat towards her, to which Flora regarded with suspicion.

"Oh c'mon," Henry said through the mouthful of food. "You've got to be kidding me! I didn't know at the time. And because now I know you don't need much, I'm giving you the right amount. So could you please relax, and just accept it?" Flora sighed tiredly, feeling the strain of operating without food for so long. She knew that if she didn't eat soon, her battle efficiency would be greatly affecting. Knowing not accepting the food would be an unwise choice at this point; she tentatively reached out, accepting the piece that had been placed in her hand. Sniffing the piece, she found no traces of possible poison, and took a small bite.

Henry simply sat on his spot as he ate, watching Flora eat her piece with interest. He often heard that they fought and moved with grace, especially the more skilled warriors. Watching her eat, further confirmed that gracefulness, seeing how she slowly chewed on each piece, with lady-like precision. He couldn't help but smile at the display, amused how just a little while ago she was a cold-blooded killer, whose role was only to destroy Yoma.

"Flora," he muttered, as he swallowed a mouthful. "It suits you." Flora looked at him strangely, having just finished her meal.

"Pardon me?" she asked, surprised by the statement, her expression reflecting her confusion.

"I'm just saying, you look like your namesake," Henry explained, as he stoked the fire and added more wood. "Flora is the Goddess of Flowers, and I have a penchant for flowers." He turned to Flora, and gave her a warm smile. Flora could only eye him sceptically. Although familiar of such story, she found it confusing someone would refer her to the goddess. Considering she brought death and destruction everywhere she went, she was confused as to how she looked like someone who was a Goddess of Flowers.

"I fail to see the relevance," she deadpanned, choosing to finally ignore him, and go to sleep.

Henry simply shrugged, and decided to go to sleep himself. Making himself comfortable and putting in a bit more firewood, he laid his head down on a small blanket he had pulled out, looked up to ensure Rose was comfortable before finally letting himself sleep.

"Maybe," he sleepily muttered to himself. "Just maybe."

**So what are your thoughts? This is a Claymore story attempt of mine. I don't know how this is going to progress, but I've outlined how this story is going to make head-way. Considering though that the fandom is small at the moment, it'll probably take a while before it can really gain any real headway in terms of a good audience, but I'm hoping those who read this will remain faithful to my story.**

**Anyways, I liked Flora, and was disappointed she had to die. Tear drop But hence why there is such a world known as a fan fiction world where things can happen which we wished happened in the anime.**

**Well anyways, that's all from me**

**Cheers**


	2. An Impression

**Beyond Flesh and Blood**

**Chapter II**** An Impression**

As the dawn of a new day began, so did the endless cycle of Flora's life. Getting up and stretching, she looked around, idly noting how nothing had changed since last night. Looking towards the fire pit, she saw it was still burning, yet no one was attending it. Looking towards the bank, she saw his horse Rose quietly eating from a bag, what was most likely oats, minding its own business, occasionally taking drinks of water from the stream. Looking back to the fire, she saw how all of his gear was still there, save for his sabatons, leading her to the conclusion he had gone out somewhere, possibly gathering food. Taking this as an opportunity to be on her way, she began to put her armour back on. With quick, methodical precision, she sheathed her weapon, and was on her way again.

However, her stopped when she heard someone call out, "Leaving without as much as a good bye?" Turning around, she saw Henry had returned, with a bagful of wood. Somewhat bewildered by his statement and the fact he had seemed to have gone out only to get wood, she looked at him curiously.

Sighing to himself, Henry quickly grabbed a large rock nearby, and started to shove the fire towards the water. Completed with that task, he pulled out a small pot from one of the bags on his house, and used it to cool off the fire pit. Satisfied with his completed tasks, he secured the bag of wood onto the other side of Rose before he quickly picked up his cloak, reached inside and secured it around him, resulting in two distinctive clicks.

"That was rude of you," Henry muttered as he grabbed hold of his horse's reigns. "You could've left some sort of message."

"I saw no point," Flora calmly replied. "Goodbye." Satisfied with her farewell, she turned around and resumed her pace.

"Mind if I join you?" Henry called out as he quickly caught up with her. Flora said nothing as she continued, paying no heed towards Henry, who had fallen in step with her. They continued to walk for some time in relative silence, occasionally speaking with one another.

As they silently walked the open road, Flora's mind slowly drifted back to the comment Henry had made about her. He said she suited her name. She still failed to see how she had any relation to the Goddess of Flowers. She didn't smell anything like such. She reeked of the stench of blood and Yoma essence. Never in her life had she ever recalled smelling anything different, no matter if she bathed in water or soap. Plus, she didn't regard herself as pretty or anything, only a warrior with the task of dealing with Yoma. So the fact someone referred her to a flower greatly confused her.

Then there was the fact how he had easily cut off the Yoma's fingers with ease. From her experiences, humans lacked the strength required to perform such a feat. The most any human could do was create small wounds, possibly distract them, allowing her brethren to make the final kill. It was another confusion that added to the mystery behind Henry.

Another oddity, although not really important, was when he had returned, all he had gone out to do was to gather firewood. From what she had gathered the other night, the amount of dried meat he had left over was consumed during his evening meal. So the fact he was able to keep up with her at this point without having had anything to eat only added up to the present series of questions and confusion regarding him.

'Just who is he?' Flora mentally wondered, her suspicions from last night still unsatisfied. However, with no real evidence to backup her claim, she simply let him be until he was proven to be some nuisance, or proved her suspicions.

They continued to walk in silence for a few more hours. Throughout the entire time, Henry had restrained himself from speaking, figuring that Flora was already annoyed with his presence especially considering what had happened last night. But it didn't prevent him from quietly making up questions he could possibly ask her later.

From behind, he couldn't help but regard her as a beautiful girl. Although possibly much older than she appeared, she looked not much older than possibly 17 or 18. The spandex outfit may have left little to the imagination; it was her face that captivated him. The way her hair conformed around her head and shoulders, her soft yet pale complexion seemed to compliment one another. But it was her eyes that captivated him the most, especially what happened last night when he laid atop her for that brief moment.

Those silver eyes that acted as the window to her soul showed him something he found attractive, but at the same time brought him great sadness. He could see the pain in her soul, but the contact had been too brief for him to really understand what he saw. Nonetheless, he was drawn in. However, a thought occurred to him as he pondered upon what he saw: Why was it that he saw a child in her eyes? Weren't Claymores trained from birth? He immediately shook his head of such questions, remembering the answers he had once been told before: Claymores were orphaned girls who were trained from young ages.

Putting that particular thought aside, he thought back to what could've caused such pain in her life. Although it was probably due to a Yoma attack, what could've caused as much trauma and pain that he saw in her eyes eluded him. It was especially troubling, as she seemed to have this natural response of somehow allowing her eyes to bear this dead appearance, shielding her soul from the world. It was a bit of a mystery to him, but it was one he intended to solve.

"We'll rest here."

"Huh?!"

"I said, we can rest here," said Flora, indicating towards a small clearing next to a small pond. "Wait here, I shall return in a moment."

"Okay," Henry replied somewhat confused, but shrugged it off, removing his cloak. Noting the time of day it was, he did the most sensible thing: "I guess I'll set up camp."

Meanwhile, Flora walked a ways away from her deciding resting spot, quietly looking for whoever it was that called her. Having found the area the signal was made, she quietly stood on the spot, waiting for her caller.

A quiet rustling behind her alerted her of the presence of someone. Turning around, she glared at a short man, despite the fact he remained hidden in the shadows of the trees, which served to darken his appearance, as he was already wearing black clothing.

"Yes Skansen?" Flora asked, finding that she really disliked being around the man more than she had to.

"My, my," he jeered, smiling. "I see that you've picked up a man for yourself."

"Do you have a mission for me or not?" Flora deadpanned, not interested in hearing his crude jokes or remarks.

"There is an Awakened hunting party that is gathering in the city of Helbrecht," said Skansen, his voice stern and crisp as he briefed her. "You will be leading a party of 4 others."

"Anything else?"

"You seem to be in a rush," Skansen commented with a sneer. "Perhaps my presence had spoiled the mood and you wish to resume your business." Flora simply stared at him impassively, suppressing all thoughts about his comments, not even daring to think about wanting to leave. She wasn't going to allow her thoughts to betray her expression. She had always hated the man's antics, and the last thing she needed was a crude, possibly disgusting or sexual remark from him. She had long tolerated his statements, but this was one she was not going to give him a reason to.

"I will be taking my leave then," Flora muttered, turning to leave.

"Slow down there prancer," Skansen called out, "Santa isn't ready for you yet, go back into that sack and play with your toys." Flora had clenched her fists tightly at the remark. Again he had gained the last word, at her expense. It bothered her to end how he would come out with these crude remarks every single time she had to speak with him. For the life of her, she began to believe he did this out of sheer amusement, finding pleasure in harassing her as she leaves.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she continued her pace, the only signs of her anger were the bloody gloves, resulted from her nails digging small wounds on the palms of her hands, incidentally tearing holes into her gloves.

"Oi," he calls out, tossing something which lands on her shoulder. "Take these and go be a bad girl, at least that way you can cover up the hard earned foreskin on your hands."

Gritting her teeth beneath her lips, she continued her pace; all the while her retainer had the gall to laugh out loud behind her back. Maintaining her composure throughout, she calmly exited the forest to see Henry quietly preparing some fish before cooking them in the fire he had going.

"Oh, you're back," Henry commented, looking up a moment to greet her before turning back and finishing his fish.

Flora lightly grunts in response as she removed her current cloves, wiped her hands clean and discarded them, before taking the gloves that still sat on her shoulders and put them on. Turning to leave, she told him not to follow her before heading off into a deeper section of the woods that was a fair distance from the intended path they would need to take in order to reach Helbrecht.

Grasping her hilt, she grunted as she quietly slashed through every tree around her with quick, lightning precision, slashing nothing but the trunks of the trees that surrounded her, never touching anything but the trunks. Each move was swift, clean, precise, and to the point, each target representing a piece of the body which she longed to cut. But unfortunately his death would mark her to be executed as well. All she could do was vent upon hapless trees and Yomas which just unfortunately happened to be target. Thankfully she would have an Awakened Being to deal with, which would greatly help her vent her frustrations.

Breathing slowly, she eased the grip of her sword; satisfied her abilities of drawing, slashing, and sheathing, in a split second were up to par. Taking a few steps back, she watched as all the trees she had cut down collapse upon one another, creating a tepee-shaped formation.

Back at the campsite, Henry sighed tiredly as he quietly ate his fish. His thoughts drifted from one subject to the next, never dwelling long on one thing before his mind came up with another thought to ponder on. Majority of his life had been spent travelling from one city to the next, training, fighting, eating, and the likes, never able to find a place to really settle down and call home, or even a place just to relax for a few days.

A wry grinned formed on his face as he figured how his life greatly paralleled the life of a Claymore: wake up, travel, eat, sleep, and fighting. He hated the life, and was sure that they hated the life they led as well. But unlike him, they had no other choice, and could continue to fight and fight until the day they died from battle. That was their life. His life could easily change. He could easily give up fighting, put down his sword, and find a woman to start his family. Many times he had considered giving up the way of the sword in exchange for creating a family.

But like everything else in life, he lacked the drive, ambition, and dedication to make such a feat. Something always held him back from going on. Perhaps it was the warrior's call, perhaps it was the fact he would never find the right woman, or perhaps due to his personal condition. Whatever it was, he has long yet to give up his sword, figuring he never would.

A soft rustling drew his attention as he looks up to see, to his great surprise, Flora with a large bundle of finely cute wood slung over her shoulder, all tied up with what looked like roots. He felt his jaw drop in surprise, never knowing how each piece of long represented a chopped up piece of Skansen.

"I've brought firewood for tomorrow," she quietly stated, dropping the bundle neatly next to Henry's present stockpile of wood.

"What did you do?" he asked in utter surprise. "That looks like enough for at least two or three nights."

"Venting can do wonders," Flora deadpanned as she began to remove her armour. Henry could do nothing but simply sit on his rump and quietly ate his fish, as his mind pondered on the possibility of if he unfortunately made her angry. Although outwardly she showed no signs of anger, her cuttings told the story. Looking at the freshly cut wood pieces, he could see just how much force she had put into each cut. Even the precision of the cuts told a story. Such a clean cut told of a focused rage as the cutter superimposed the object of her rage on the unfortunate tree trunks.

Henry shuddered involuntarily as the thought of a living person or creature facing her wrath. Although they may deserve it, the possibility of someone actually going through that disturbed him. Shaking off the feeling, he went back to eating his fish, and making a big note to never get Flora angry.

Letting herself to crack a small smile, Flora noted the shudder and found amusement in his fear. However, his fear was justified, especially by the fact she had mentioned about venting. But regardless, she silently swore to at least get back at the man if she couldn't kill him. Since she had received her sword and began missions, he had been nothing but a thorn on her side, taunting her, annoying her, and on occasions, made very crude and disgusting remarks, which often had sexual innuendos, which extremely bothered her to no end.

"So long as you do not bother me, you are in no danger," Flora stated, smiling lightly when she saw Henry slightly jump from the sudden statement.

"Anyways, where you off to tomorrow?" he asked, curious of her destination and wanting to get off the previous subject.

"I fail to see why I should explain myself."

"I'm just curious, and I figure since I'm going to be travelling with you for a while, I may as well join you," Henry countered casually, lying down to gaze at the stars.

"I do not recall ever allowing you to join me," Flora replied, starting to feel agitated again.

"Ah c'mon," Henry whined. "I just want to follow because we're both heading in the same direction. Besides, I've got a job call in Helbrecht to join some hunting party, that's going after a Voracious Eater or something like that."

"Pardon me?" Flora couldn't help but stare at him incredulously. If he said what she believed he said, he was about to probably enter a suicide mission.

"I was asked a few days ago by some man in black clothes who said that he requested my skills to join a hunting party," he explained. "Pay is apparently good." Flora immediately frowned. For some odd reason, the organization had hired a human mercenary. That put her off greatly. It wasn't possible for a human to slay a Yoma solo. However, she had little choice in the matter, as he was likely going to join the hunt no matter what she did, plus he was not her problem per se. But considering she was going to be the party captain, it would do just fine as she would probably test him and give him a back-up role.

"I see," Flora deadpanned, her voice perfectly concealing her astonishment, and newfound knowledge of who was on the team, and the fact she was going to be his leader.

"I wonder what they're like," Henry muttered, turning his head towards Flora. "You wouldn't happen to know what they're like would you?"

Flora quietly contemplated on the question. She could explain their true nature then and there and tell him, as well as the fact she's on his team, and that she will be his leader, or she could feign temporary innocence and say nothing. However, it would most likely compromise their trust in the long run, especially when he find out she lied to him. Realizing which would be the better choice, she steeled herself and took a calming breath.

"Voracious Eater is a term used for public relations," Flora began. "They are actually something we call Awakened Beings, former warriors who have fallen before their own powers, and have become what they hate most: a Yoma, far greater and more powerful than a normal one.

"If a request is made to dispatch such a monster, our leaders weigh the pros and cons of such a hunt, and will dispatch the best possible team with the warriors available to deal with the encounter, with a single digit leading the team. The price is quite high mind you; therefore often it would require a couple towns in order to pay for such an endeavour.

"Your target is actually an Awakened Being, and I am the leader of the party you are to join up with."

"Wow," Henry commented, his expression one of amusement.

"You do not fear for your life?" she asked, somewhat surprised by such a near-bland response.

"Oh I'm scared out of my wits," said Henry, "but why would I want to let that get me down?! I've taken on Yoma before. This'll be no different, except that it's just a bigger, uglier, and stronger one." Flora couldn't help but look at him curiously. Here was a man who spoke with no fear and absolute confidence. It was as if he knew the party was going to succeed.

"How can you be so sure?" Flora asked, sceptical of his optimism. "We have lost many of our warriors in order to take down one Awakened Being."

"I just know it," Henry stated, his confidence resolute, his statement unwavering. And somehow, Flora believed what he stated.

"So, what exactly are we doing when we get the rally point?" Henry asked.

"We are to gather, where I shall then test everyone's skills and abilities," Flora explained. "It'll help me understand our fighting potential, and I can plan accordingly."

"If that's the case," Henry began as he sat up, "why not test me now?" Flora's looked at him in mild surprise as he drew his blade.

"Pardon me?"

"C'mon, it'll be fun," Henry exclaimed with a smile. "Besides, it'll be fun to cross swords with a claymore user."

"Fun?" she asked, utterly confused to his reaction. "I fail to see how there is any amusement in sparring."

"Oh don't tell me that you haven't just had fights for the fun of it," Henry asked, almost aghast by her question. Flora simply glared at him.

"You're no fun," he pouted.

"Very well," Flora replied, picking up her sword. "Show me your power."

With no further prompting, Flora dashed forward as she prepared for a diagonal slash.

Henry smirked as he swung his sword arm over his head, deflecting the blow. As the momentum carried on spinning his arm back, his offhand reached up and grabbed the hilt as he prepared for his on diagonal slash, only for the blade to greet air. Looking ahead, Flora dashed forward again as she lunged her blade forward.

Parrying the attack to his left, he let out roar as he brought his blade parallel with the ground and advanced forward to cleave her in two. Flora immediately reacted, flipping over the blade and moved to slash his shoulder as she passed over. Reacting with surprising speed, Henry ducked down and swung his leg out as he swept Flora off her feet as she landed.

Executing an immediate back flip she narrowly dodged a hammer blow which would've possibly cut her hair. Landing back on the ground, she narrowly brought her guard up as Henry started attacking her with a series of blows in rapid succession. Although a person of her powers could easily make the attacks faster, she noted how fast he already was attacking, considering the weight and size of his weapon. She also noted how he had a minor advantage in terms of the difference in width of their weapons. While hers was broad at the base and arrow shaped, his was a straight edged, giving him the ability to possibly weave through her guard and strike her.

Her fears solidified as he suddenly weaved his weapon through her guard. Spinning away, she immediately lashed her leg out and kicked him hard in the head.

Barely able to recover, Henry falls into a defensive position as Flora launched her counterattack. And unfortunately for him, he was forced to continuously retreat, never able to gain any solid footing to retaliate. With each swing he barely blocks and back off. With each lunge he narrowly dodges and retreats. With each stab he barely parries and backs off.

Sensing his defences diminishing, she goes for one last shot, relieving him of his weapon, blade edge tight against his throat.

Henry immediately froze on the spot; fearing one wrong move would cost him his life, even if it was an accident. Although the bout had been really fun, it had ended a lot quicker than he had hoped.

'That's what I get for messing around I suppose,' he inwardly thought, not daring to voice his opinion.

"Not bad," Flora commented, backing off and placing the weapon back in the ground.

'I underestimated him somewhat,' she mentally commented. 'I can see why the organization would require his services. They wish to rid themselves of a possible threat to their income.'

"We will rest, and will proceed at first light," said Flora, sitting down and leaning against her sword. "Know that an Awakened Being will be stronger than us warriors in most respect."

"I'll keep that in mind," Henry muttered, placing his sword back in its sheath before pulling out the small blanket that acted as his pillow, and tossing more wood into the fire.


End file.
